Month: July 2020

Part II: The Fallout

In Part I, I described how my troubles with Jennifer and Evans began.  Herein, I will show how they escalated their vendetta against me over the next three years, turning my old friends against me and increasingly manipulating the Scrabble scene to shut me out.

People have to pretend you’re a bad person, so they don’t feel guilty about the things they did to you.

The next time we crossed paths was at a tournament in Charlottesville in March 2017. By this point I was over Jennifer completely. I played Evans twice and Jennifer once. Evans continued not talking to me at all, but I acted like nothing unusual was happening. I didn’t attempt to get a handshake before the games, as I knew he wouldn’t want to do so. I tried to make some friendly chat after the closer of our two games about possible strategic and tactical decisions for him. He said nothing and just walked away.

When I played Jennifer, I did offer a handshake, but she politely declined saying that she had a cold, which was visibly true. Our game was cordial enough. If she was uncomfortable playing me this time, she didn’t show it. She never gave me anything like the silent treatment that Evans did, and she did not behave in an untoward way to me.

The next time I was in the same place as Jennifer and Evans was the Niagara Falls tournament in May. I never played or talked to either of them at that event. There was at least an occasion or two when I noticed that Evans saw me in the tournament room and immediately looked away. He couldn’t bear to see me, let alone interact with me.

One moment sticks in my mind. At one of our meal breaks, I had left the playing room and almost gotten to the exit doors of the Convention Centre when I came near a group that included Jennifer and Evans. I was ignored by everyone and didn’t attempt any interaction with them. Moments later, I crossed paths with Chris Lipe outside and said something about all the people avoiding me. Chris said, “I’m sorry this is so awkward for you.” My response, “This isn’t awkward for me. It’s awkward for them,” genuinely surprised him. We didn’t have a long conversation, but I communicated that if there were any justice in the world the other people would be hanging out with me and spurning them, because they were the ones being rude to me, not the other way around.

Chris saw that he had misunderstood the situation. I believe he abandoned plans to join their lunch group and ate with me instead. We didn’t talk about it more. In the big picture, there are many ways that I have been dissatisfied with how Chris has responded to their behavior, but this was a moment when he did right by me.

In August of 2017, Jennifer and Evans organized a tournament in Nashville, Tennessee, concurrent with the solar eclipse happening in that region. They rented a house to use for the tournament and lodging. In what became the archetype of the pattern they would follow in future years, they reached out to a bunch of their friends privately and got them to sign up in advance so that the event could be full before registration ever went public.

The timing of that event happened to be when I couldn’t have attended even if I were welcome, as it was just days before the World Scrabble Championship in Nottingham, England. I am sure that Jennifer and Evans were aware of the impossibility of me attending at that time, and I’m also sure that I was not the only person they were interested in excluding. I heard through an inside connection that they specifically did not want Joey Krafchick to attend. Joey was a young and talented Scrabble player, who was living in Atlanta and playing a lot of CSW. Around this time he had also become an outspoken pro-Trumper, alienating himself from many Scrabble players.

None of this bothered me. For me, their tournament was moot, as I had much bigger things on my plate. I led the World Championship for most of the first half and finished in 11th place. I won the British Matchplay Scrabble Championship (BMSC) a few days later, also in Nottingham. But I made a mental note of what Jennifer and Evans were doing.

On one of the evenings during the BMSC, I went out to a bar with Brett Smitheram. He is a Londoner, a close friend, and the winner of the 2016 World Championship. Brett has done many media appearances and feels it is the duty of a World Champion to help promote and grow the game. I’m inclined to agree with him.

David Eldar, an Australian expat who also lives in London, had just won the 2017 World Scrabble Championship a day or so before. Brett told me that the BBC had wanted to do a TV interview with both Brett and David, as the outgoing and incoming World Champions, but David had declined the interview. Of course, they weren’t going to have the old Champion on without the new one, so the whole piece got canceled. Brett was understandably annoyed that David hadn’t been willing to go along with this.

Immediately after the two tournaments in Nottingham, I traveled with Chris Lipe to Stockholm, Sweden. Chris and I were competing in the Continental Scrabble Championship the following weekend, but we had a few days to be tourists first. One afternoon I was enjoying a few G&T’s made from a nice bottle of gin that I’d bought at Gatwick Airport. On a Facebook group called Scrabble Snippetz, populated mostly by UK players but also by more than a few of my North American CSW brethren, there was a discussion about whether tournament competitors ought to be able to opt out of live annotation of their games for internet coverage. Some players were embarrassed about having their racks, plays, and errors shown to the world.

David and I made contributions to the discussion, and we were in vociferous agreement. Both of us espoused the position that if a tournament is getting any kind of outside sponsorship for prize money, then players should not be able to opt out. Doing our part to help the promotion of the event ought to be a condition of getting to compete for that prize money.

In one comment, David said “It would be as absurd as professional athletes refusing to be on television in their games.” I have never been one to hold back from jibing my friends for their apparent hypocrisy. Already a few drinks in, I couldn’t resist. I made a one-line response to David saying, “It would be as absurd as the World Scrabble Champion refusing to appear on BBC.” The previous dialogue was paraphrased, but I remember his next reply exactly: “Do you talk to your partners this way?” I was baffled by his phrasing, but I knew that he was not taking my words in good humor. I clarified that I was tipsy and meant the comment light-heartedly, adding a smiley. That seemed to smooth things over.

A little while later Chris and I went out to dinner at a cool medieval Swedish restaurant. I enjoyed the meal, and Chris buried his face in his phone, checking the Scrabble gossip online. Suddenly Chris said, “You might want to check Snippetz. Eldar is trashing you really hard right now.”

After reading the brief exchange between David and me, several other Scrabble players had asked him whether he had turned down a BBC interview. He made a brand new post on Snippetz to address it. This post was nothing less than a full-blown ad hominem attack on me. He said that I was a passive-aggressive jerk and that I would never win the World Scrabble Championship. He furthermore explained that the BBC interview was in Manchester, and that was the main reason he had turned it down. He had really wanted to get back to London without delay, and furthermore it seemed ridiculous to him that the BBC couldn’t do the piece in London, considering that both he and Brett lived there.

While I appreciated the explanation of the Manchester thing, which Brett had not mentioned, I thought David’s personal attack on me was completely unwarranted and outsize, in response to what I had clearly communicated was an alcohol-laden attempt to joke with him. His egregious attack caused a pile-on effect. A lot of people liked David’s post, including people whom I had considered good friends in the Scrabble community, even though it was so obviously inappropriate. A close friend of mine made a long comment that was an even more vicious and personal attack on me and not in any way related to what David was talking about. My internal reaction was, “All these people hate me, and they’re looking for an excuse. As soon as one person gives them permission to attack me, it’s the trendy thing to do.”

I believe that if I were valued and loved in this community, other people would have spoken up in my defense. That did not happen. I was the lone voice who defended myself.

That incident with David—not anything with Jennifer and Evans—made me snap. From that moment onward I decided that if no one else in the Scrabble community was going to defend me, to speak out against the wrongdoing done to me, to shut down those who attacked me, I was going to do it my damn self. I made a decision right then and there that anyone attacking me publicly on social media would be met with the nuclear option. I was going to attack, embarrass, and hurt them back so badly that I would cripple their ability to ever attack me again. I would come out so hard in response to anything like that that I would intimidate those who were even considering attacking me.

I stand by that decision, even though it has made my relationship with the Scrabble community even more fraught than it was before.

From age 11 to 18, I grew up with a monster in my house. My mother had a live-in boyfriend who was emotionally abusive to me and my three sisters. He did many inappropriate and harmful things, often in front of my mother. My mother let it all happen, almost never raising her voice, nor complaining, nor doing anything to stop him, no matter how outrageous his behavior was. Her passivity was complicity, and she normalized his abusive behavior. When I was 18, I was the one who finally called the police and had him removed from our home. My mother got a restraining order against him. Later she canceled the order without telling her children, and she started letting him come back to the house when her children were not around. This happened until he accidentally showed up when I was home. I screamed at him from the doorstep, threatening to call the police and doing everything I could to attract the neighbors’ attention, until he went away.

Ever since that time, I have intentionally taken a pro-confrontation attitude. I believe that we only solve our problems by facing them head on, by having the hard conversations, by standing up to our abusers, by doing whatever it takes to make sure that they can never hurt us again.

Nothing in David’s screed against me nor the comments on it even mentioned anything related to Jennifer and Evans. I have no idea whether David knew anything about that situation. I think it is likely he did not and was just dealing with his own demons. However, I am sure that the pile-on that I experienced was in large part due to the perception of my history with Jennifer and Evans. (I knew this intuitively right away, and it was confirmed by a much later conversation with the person who wrote the long comment on David’s post.) It was not the first time that I was treated differently because of what people thought that I did, but it was when the dam broke open.

My next tournament after returning from Europe was in Asheville, North Carolina, in November 2017. This was the first time I have ever played in a multiday Scrabble tournament and not had any after-hours socialization with the other players. In fairness, Matthew Bernardina did meet up with me the night before the tournament for a couple of hours at a cute little board game cafe. But on Saturday night after the games, I ate dinner by myself and called it an early night. Most of the people in the CSW division were at a group dinner that I was not invited to. The person who organized the dinner is someone who I have considered a longtime friend. We have socialized for over a decade, and I have stayed at her home multiple times. I have had essentially no relationship with this person ever since Jennifer and Evans have been together.

Jennifer and Evans were not even at the Asheville tournament.

I don’t know when I became cognizant that Evans had started back-filling annotations of our games on cross-tables, only games that he had won. I don’t think I noticed this until long after he had done it. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had done this as a way of trying to assert superiority over me, perhaps thinking that I might be hurt by it. The effect was completely the reverse. Like his behavior during our game in New Orleans, this reinforced to me how much I was in his head, and what a huge psychological advantage I would hold over him in future games.

In late 2017 Jennifer and Evans moved together to Tacoma, Washington. It didn’t matter to me at the time, but fate decided that it would become a significant fact in my life not much later. They organized a tournament in Hood River, Oregon, for Presidents Day weekend 2018. They treated it the same way they had the Nashville tournament, getting their friends to fill up all the spots before the tournament became public. On the cross-tables page they claimed there was a waiting list for anyone else who wanted to play, but they kept the names and order on the list private.

This event was on the opposite side of the country from me, and it wasn’t a good time for me to go anyway. But again, I stayed aware of what they were doing and guessed what their frame of mind must have been. Their private registration method made it impossible for me to sign up. Meanwhile, they got all the best CSW players in the Pacific Northwest to come, as well as a number of strong players from elsewhere.

I was swamped at work. My team had delivered a new product in the fall which drastically increased our maintenance burden and made my on-call shifts hellish. It was disrupting my sleep and taking a serious toll on my health. Around the New Year, I learned about an opportunity on a different team at my company that was a good match for my interests and skills and had virtually no on-call responsibility. This team was located at my company’s headquarters in Seattle.

I had been working at this company for four years—longer than I had known Jennifer—and I had already made many business trips to Seattle. I liked the city. I had organized Scrabble get-togethers with the handful of players in the area who played CSW.

I was also tired of working in our office in suburban Northern Virginia that kept me too far out of Washington DC for so much of the time. As I talked about in the previous part, most of my opportunities to play CSW Scrabble around DC had evaporated over the last two years.

As soon as the possibility of the Seattle job arose, I immediately knew there could be some problems. Tacoma and Seattle aren’t right next to each other. They’re like DC and Baltimore. But the CSW Scrabble scene is small. If I lived there, I was sure to cross paths with Jennifer and Evans, and we would want to play with the same players and at the same events. Furthermore, Jennifer and Evans were quickly filling a vacuum and starting to become the preeminent CSW organizers in the area, not just with the Hood River event but also a number of one-day tournaments.

The Seattle job was already on my radar, but I wasn’t sure if it was the direction I would go when I next crossed paths with Evans and Jennifer, at the New Orleans tournament in January 2018, one year after all this hubbub had started. Evans won his first 12 games in a row and looked like he might run away with the tournament. As soon as I sat down at the top board to face him in round 14, I thanked him for refusing Sam Kantimathi’s entry to the Hood River tournament. I didn’t get him to say much, but he at least looked at me and made an acknowledgment that he heard me, which was more than I’ve gotten from him any other time we met since these things started.

If you haven’t heard of Sam Kantimathi, the quickest way to get up to speed is to read the public post I made on Facebook calling for him to receive a lifetime ban from the game. My arguments were entirely about Sam’s cheating and the integrity of the game. Additionally, in the responses other people brought up Sam’s terrible treatment of women. After I made that post, Sam withdrew from all of the tournaments he had signed up for, but he gradually began reentering events soon afterward. Some directors started disallowing him from events, and some players started working within the North American Scrabble Players Association (NASPA) to investigate his wrongdoings toward women and attempt to get him banned. None of this has yet resulted in an expulsion. The 2018 Hood River event was one of the first test cases in which the directors were successful in disallowing him. I had learned this through the grapevine.

The board Evans and I were playing on was being broadcast on the internet, so there was a contraption with an overhead camera looking down on the board. When the game was about to start, I extended my hand across the board to try to shake Evans’s hand. This is the only time I have done so since he surprised me with his refusal at this same tournament the previous year. I said aloud something like, “C’mon Evans, you’re not going to refuse to shake my hand with the camera on.” He ignored me, and my hand hung awkwardly in the air for too long.

I didn’t think he was going to shake my hand. I did it because I wanted the rest of the world to see that I was treating him normally, while he was being rude. My attempt was unsuccessful. I checked the online footage later. The overhead camera was capturing the board but neither of our bodies, and there was no sound. So you could see my hand hanging over the board, but with no other context it wasn’t even obvious that it was an attempt at a handshake.

This was the first moment in this entire story that I became angry at Evans. I totally understood him losing his cool the year before, but he had had an entire year to get over himself and calm down enough to actually talk to me. Instead, he had completely avoided having any communication. He never said a word to me, and I could tell from his body language every time we were in the same place that he couldn’t stand even being in my presence. He never even wanted to look in my direction, and now he had finally insulted me to my face, while I had done absolutely nothing but be a civil human being to him the entire time.

Part of me wanted to chew him out right then and there, but I knew it would be useless and counterproductive, both because it was clear that he hated me so much that nothing I said would get through to him, and because letting him stay mad at me gave me the advantage over the board. I shook with anger on the first play of the game, but I quickly calmed myself. Then I beat him at Scrabble.

Evans’s consolation was that he beat me in our round 18 rematch, a game in which no conversation or handshakes were attempted.

Shortly after the tournament, I interviewed with several people on the team in Seattle, and it became clear that it was a good career fit. They wanted to work with me, and I wanted to work with them. Everything in my life suggested that this was a good direction to go in, except for the situation with Evans and Jennifer. In the end I decided I wasn’t going to let their behavior get in the way of making the right decision for me. I met up with an old friend in DC and told him a little bit about the story and my concern about the tension when I went to Seattle. He said optimistically, “Maybe this will force you all to deal with it.”

I came to Seattle in early March 2018 for a business trip, during which I ramped up with my new team and did an apartment search. This was a very busy time, so Scrabble wasn’t much of a priority. I had a text chat with Chris Grubb, a CSW player who lives in Seattle, who revealed to me that there was a group of players meeting on Fridays downtown that started when Jennifer and Evans moved to Tacoma. Furthermore, Jennifer and Evans had told his fiancee Rachel, also a player, that they would not come if I was there.

Chris wrote, “Don’t know how to say this, but rumor has it that there is some problematic history between you and them (?)… not that I know or care about any of that. I hate drama.”

My response was, “Yes, they’ve been complete assholes to me ever since they’ve gotten together and I’ve done nothing to them. Curious what they’re telling people though.” This was not something I had any bandwidth to deal with during this trip, but again I was taking mental notes about what they were doing.

I found an apartment that wasn’t going to be available until late April, so I went back to the east coast and worked remotely for my new team for the next month and a half. Shortly before I made the move, I played in a Scrabble tournament in Princeton, New Jersey, where one of my competitors was Walker Willingham, another CSW player who lives in the Seattle area, on Bainbridge Island.

I could tell Walker wanted to talk to me about my move to Seattle. We went out to lunch. He made clear that Evans hated me, but that he (Walker) didn’t want to know what the drama was about. Then he tried to negotiate some arrangement where we would have the CSW players meet on alternate Fridays with me and with Jennifer and Evans. I said that this was not acceptable to me.

Walker was the first Scrabble player to whom I told the whole backstory. I had told a therapist and a few close people among my family and non-Scrabble friends, but I had been keeping it out of the purview of Scrabble players and trying to stay above the fray. However, I now had evidence that Jennifer and Evans were directly talking to other players about their version of events and trying to reduce my chances to play Scrabble in Seattle. This was fifteen months after the New Orleans tournament that Jennifer and Evans were still holding a grudge about.

I told Walker not only about what happened leading up to and at the 2017 New Orleans tournament, but also about Evans’s treatment of me since, and about what he and Jennifer were doing to keep me out of their “private club” tournaments, even though I wasn’t even trying to sign up. And that they were now surreptitiously gathering the other Seattle CSW Scrabble players and trying to get them all to agree to keep me away.

Despite all of that, I continued to Walker, I had no problem getting together with them and all the other Seattle CSW players to play games. It was only they who had mistreated me and they who were trying to avoid me. I shouldn’t be left out of anything on account of their misbehavior. Furthermore, this was all something which easily could have been ironed out at any time in the more than a year that had passed since that time, if they would have ever just talked to me.

It was ridiculous. Not only had I organized get-togethers with the other Seattle CSW players before Jennifer and Evans had even moved there, but I had also introduced some of them to each other. Jennifer and Evans needed to get over themselves, and the rest of the group needed to say no to their divisiveness.

A couple of weeks after I moved to town, Walker sent out an email to all the local CSW players, including Jennifer, Evans, and me, suggesting a get-together at the same bar where they had already been meeting. Walker would later let me know that shortly after he sent the email Evans responded only to him saying “Was this a slip up?”

Evans and Jennifer attempted to browbeat the other Seattle area Scrabble players into excluding me from their casual Scrabble get-togethers, and when the other players did not comply, Evans and Jennifer stopped attending. They did not respond to any group emails, and they never showed up once in the entire time I’ve lived here. Walker and I continued including them on the group emails for a while, but we eventually gave up because they were not responsive.

The only players who showed up for that first session after I arrived were Walker, Judy Romann, and me. Chris Grubb and his partner Rachel came sporadically to later meetings, as did Bharath Balakrishnan. But it was difficult to get a critical mass. Often it was only me, Judy, and Walker. Sometimes knowing that we would have an odd number, Walker wouldn’t bother to come, so I would just spend the evening playing against Judy. This was part of the problem: Jennifer and Evans weren’t just organizers. They were a significant chunk of a small CSW Scrabble community. Without them, it was hard to achieve a critical mass.

A week after that first Seattle get-together, there was a one-day tournament in Portland. I offered to drive, and Walker, Judy, and Bharath all came with me. Jennifer and Evans also played in the tournament, which turned out to be the last time we ever played at the same event, and the second-to-last time that we have ever been in the same place.

This was a small event of only eight players, played in the dining area of a pizzeria. Of course, the moment I walked into the room, Evans looked down at the table where he and Jennifer were sitting, and he ignored me the entire day. In the fourth round, he and I played. I did not offer a handshake. He was due to go first, so I shuffled the tiles in the bag and said, “You may go first, Child.” There was no other conversation.

In the final round I played Jennifer. This was only the second time we were playing after New Orleans, as we’d happened not to get paired at the few other tournaments we both attended, except for Charlottesville. Prior to this game, I attempted to reach my hand out for a handshake, simply because it was the civil thing to do and I wasn’t aware that Jennifer had any problem with it. She declined. At least she wasn’t obnoxious or abrasive about it. We had a little bit of polite conversation about the game afterward. That seemed to put her in better spirits. Perhaps she was starting to come around to the realization that I’m just living my life and have no issue with her.

In one of my early conversations with Judy in Seattle, she mentioned that she had asked Jennifer in the restroom one time before I moved to town about why she didn’t want to play with me. Judy told me that Jennifer said it wasn’t really her, it was Evans.

The irony is that the person with whom I most want to play Scrabble in the entire Seattle area is Evans Clinchy. I don’t care whether he likes me or not, but he is my best possible sparring partner living nearby. We’re very close in playing strength. If he and Jennifer had ever been willing to come to any of our gatherings, he would have seen that I had no issue with him and was happy to play. He might have calmed down and just enjoyed the games. It might have eventually opened up an opportunity to have a conversation that would help him make peace with the past. However, he and Jennifer have done nothing but put up walls since I have moved here.

In late 2017 and early 2018, Jennifer and Evans had just been starting to ramp up organizing more CSW tournaments in the region, but that changed significantly after I came to town. There was one holdover one-day event at their home in Tacoma in June, about a month after the Portland event, that they had already put on the calendar before I moved to town. I think it was probably already full before I got to town. I didn’t make any effort to try to get in. The only time they ran an event at that same location again was during the 2018 World Championship, in which they knew I was competing.

They almost entirely stopped going to the monthly Portland tournaments. They’ve been mostly inactive in the Scrabble scene in the Pacific Northwest publicly, except for their two signature annual events, both of which they started in 2018. The first of these was the Hood River tournament on Presidents Day weekend, which I mentioned earlier.

The other event was scheduled for Labor Day weekend at a lodge on the Oregon coast. They had already put this event on the calendar before I had moved to Seattle, and they pulled the same shenanigans with signups as they had for the Nashville and Hood River tournaments. This time they didn’t manage to quite fill up all of the spots before the registration went public. I know this because a Portland-area Scrabble player tipped me off with a Facebook message shortly before I moved from Virginia. I guessed by the way he brought it up that he must have heard something through the rumor mill and was trying to stir the pot. At the time, I was fully occupied with a cross-country move and didn’t have the energy to even try to engage Evans and Jennifer about the tournament, and by the time I got settled in Seattle the event was already full. It is not an exaggeration to say that they invited all of the CSW Scrabble players in the Pacific Northwest to play in that event except me.

I crossed paths with Jennifer and Evans precisely one more time. Chris Lipe and Randi Goldberg were having a small destination wedding in Aruba, with only about 20 guests in total, roughly half of whom were Scrabble players. Randi mentioned that Jennifer and Evans would be there, and that they weren’t making any seat assignments for the small dinner on the beach.

I wanted to go to support Chris and Randi, and I loved the idea of getting away to Aruba. I easily imagined what this was going to look like. The Scrabble players would probably all hang out together in the days around the wedding, playing games, having meals, etc. If I joined them, Evans was going to pull his usual shtick of not looking at or talking to me. There was part of me that wanted to join the group as much as possible, just so all the rest of them could see that I had no problem interacting like a normal human being, while he was the only one being ludicrously uncivil. However, I didn’t want to escalate things at a wedding, out of respect for the bride and groom.

Fortunately, I had started dating Emily early in my time in Seattle, and she agreed to come to the wedding with me. She wasn’t a Scrabble player, so there would be no pressure to hang out with the other players, and we could just have fun on our own. I informed her of the backstory with Jennifer and Evans before we headed to Aruba, so she wouldn’t be surprised by anything from them.

Emily and I arrived at the resort in Aruba on an afternoon in the middle of July, two days before the wedding. After checking into our room, we crossed through the lobby on our way to the beach. Mina, a Scrabble player and good friend, waved to me. She was sitting with a group of Scrabble players playing a different board game. Evans was with the group, but Jennifer was not. Emily and I walked up, and I said hello and introduced her. Several people got up to introduce themselves and shake her hand or give her a hug. Everyone gave her a friendly greeting except Evans. Evans stayed seated, averting his eyes. He wouldn’t look at or talk to me or anyone associated with me, apparently. When it was his turn to introduce himself, he didn’t even say hello. He just muttered, “Evans.” Neither I nor anyone else called him out on it. Emily and I said our goodbyes a minute or so later and walked away. We didn’t see the other Scrabble players again until the wedding.

The wedding ceremony was short, and as I expected there were about 11 or 12 Scrabble players in attendance. During the cocktail hour, Emily and I chatted with Mina and her date César, as well as Stefan and Terry Kang Rau, all longtime friends of mine from Scrabble. None of the other Scrabble players made any effort to talk to us. Emily and I hovered near the open bar, refilling our drinks several times. I have to give her credit. She sensed a lot of the awkwardness, but she was a champ, never showing any displeasure.

At a moment when Emily had slipped away, Jennifer came up to the bar. Unexpectedly, she said hello to me and asked how I was doing. I said I was doing great, probably a bit too loudly and awkwardly, taken aback that she was interacting with me at all. That was the extent of the conversation, and she walked away.

Emily was back, and cocktail hour was winding down, with guests starting to take seats for dinner. There were only four tables, not including the little table for the bride and groom in the middle. Two of them were for Chris’s and Randi’s families, and the other two were on opposite sides of the dance floor that had been set up on the beach. All of the Scrabble players were starting to gather at the table on the far side from the bar area.

Emily and I lingered by the bar. She whispered to me, asking whether it would be more awkward to sit with the Scrabble players or not sit with them. I said, “It’s going to be awkward either way.” We waited until everyone else had sat down, and as expected all the other Scrabble players had filled up the other table. The two seats that were left were at the non-Scrabble friends table.

Emily and I sat down and got to know Chris’s and Randi’s other friends, who were mostly from Saint Louis or climbing buddies or both. We are both very outgoing people and had no trouble making new friends. The other people at our table knew all the other Scrabble players were at the other table, but they were too polite to say anything about it. At a wedding with two non-family tables, I was sitting at the table where I knew nobody instead of the table where I knew everybody.

When the reception was nearly over, Chris and Randi left their table and made an especial point of coming up to me and Emily to talk to us on their way out. On the surface this might have seemed like a nice gesture, but it was already clear from earlier conversations that the Scrabble players were going to gather in the lobby of the resort, which was only about a hundred feet or so from where we were sitting, to play some more board games, right in the same spot where Emily and I had run into them two days earlier. While Chris was trying to be polite and graceful, he was essentially saying goodbye to me and Emily because he was about to go play with his other friends. He didn’t say that I wasn’t welcome to join them. He just assumed that I wouldn’t.

Emily read right through it. The moment he walked away, she whispered again to me, letting no one else but me see how pissed she was at him for being a lousy friend to me. Chris’s behavior bothered her more than me in that moment. I was unsurprised by his behavior, but the fact that Emily was piqued on my behalf was an act of kindness to me. It was the best thing about the entire experience at the wedding for me.

Later in 2018, Jennifer got herself elected to the Advisory Board of NASPA. A little while later I saw a newsletter blurb about how NASPA was making rule changes to allow directors to disallow a player from entering their tournaments if the directors felt that the player would disrupt the safety and environment of the event. There was a further clarification that directors could not disallow players simply because they disliked them. I immediately suspected that Jennifer might have been involved in that rule change, but I did not act on this or say anything to anyone about it at the time.

On the evening of September 12, 2018, a week and a half after the Oregon Coast tournament, I went to cross-tables.com and saw that the second Hood River tournament would occur on Presidents Day weekend in 2019. Not having had opportunities to play in local tournaments for many months already, I wasn’t in the habit of checking the listings regularly, but it must have been kismet that I happened upon this shortly after they had advertised the event. Jennifer and Evans had again signed up most of their friends in advance, but four spots out of twenty were still open.

I thought about what to do. I knew that Evans and Jennifer had been waging a silent war against me, but I hadn’t been doing anything. I literally had never contacted either of them since my email to Jennifer on January 5, 2017. We had been in the same place only six times since then: at the New Orleans, Charlottesville, and Niagara Falls tournaments in 2017, and the next year at New Orleans, the Portland one-day in May, and the wedding in Aruba. Even if Jennifer had seemingly gradually calmed down, Evans had behaved distastefully toward me on every single occasion—and even toward my date at the wedding. But neither of them had ever expressed to me what their grievances were. They had simply cut off all communication.

I had already decided that the way to handle them at the few tournaments where we crossed paths was just to ignore their awkwardness and act like it wasn’t happening. That was the classy thing to do, I thought. So I asked myself, what would I do if they weren’t behaving like this? The answer was to sign up for the tournament. They had listed both of their email addresses as directors and given instructions to send them via PayPal a $250 fee, which covered both the tournament fee and lodging cost for the weekend.

I wanted there to be no possibility of them painting this as me harassing Jennifer, so I sent the money to Evans’s email address. It was late in the evening when I did this, and I didn’t want to bother him at that hour, so I waited until the next morning to send a brief email to Evans, notifying him of my entry while complimenting him on some of his other recent achievements.

from: Dave Koenig
to: Evans Clinchy
date: Sep 13, 2018, 8:29 AM
subject: Hood River entry

I paypalled you payment for the Hood River tournament last night.

Congrats on your big win at Nationals, and good luck at the Alchemist Cup.

See you in February, if not sooner.

Cheers,
Dave

screenshot in appendix

Later that same day, I received a notification that Evans had refunded my PayPal payment. He did not respond to my email, but Jennifer emailed me and copied him on the message.

from: Jennifer Lee
to: Dave Koenig
cc: Evans Clinchy
date: Sep 13, 2018, 1:37 PM
subject: Hood River tournament

Hi Dave,

Thanks for your interest in the Hood River tournament. Evans received your $250 payment for the entry fee and lodging. I am writing on behalf of myself and Evans as the co-directors to explain why we have refunded that payment back to your PayPal account. 

I am aware that you have actively disparaged me, my character, and my reputation to several other members of the Scrabble community. You previously sent me harassing emails, which culminated in a written threat from you that you would take action to intentionally cause me emotional distress at a Scrabble tournament in the playing room. Your actions have made me feel threatened and unsafe. 

The Hood River Open takes place in an intimate lodge setting where players share common housing. This format requires goodwill and close cooperation among all attendees. Your actions, behavior, and threats have consequences. As co-directors of the Hood River Open, Evans and I are responsible for providing a safe and positive environment for all attending players. We believe that your attendance would disrupt the tournament and detract from our efforts to provide that safe and positive environment. For these reasons, we are returning your entry fee. We appreciate your understanding. 

Thanks,
Jennifer

screenshot in appendix

My reaction to the email was largely positive. This was the first time they were ever addressing me about their grievance. Regardless of how they felt, a small window of opportunity for communication was opening. I waited three days before deciding how to respond, and then I wrote this email, which I did not send.

Jennifer,

Thank you for taking the time to write this out and give me this explanation. I am not certain how much of what you wrote here you actually believe, and how much what you have written is just what you feel you have to say, to be consistent with the case you would make to NASPA if I were to challenge your decision on this. But let me put your mind at ease in one way immediately: I have no desire to escalate this to NASPA, and I respect your decision. I don’t even really care about whether I go to this tournament or not; what is much more important is resolving the tension in this situation.

I do not have any problem with you or Evans. It is only the two of you who have a problem with me. I completely understand how the two of you have gotten to the point of having the interpretations and feelings that you do, but since neither of you has been willing to communicate with me for the last year and three quarters, you have given me no opportunity to correct the situation. As such, I have felt that the best I can do is just continuing living my life, playing Scrabble, and ignoring your behaviors and the fact that you have been afraid of me and Evans has visually and viscerally hated me ever since January of 2017.

I signed up for this tournament, not out of any desire to make life difficult for the two of you, but simply because it is what I would have done if you two were not behaving the way you were, and I thought it might provide an opportunity for you to actually address your problems with me. I am glad that you have done so.

I am 100% sure that if you and I were to sit down and have a conversation in good faith about what happened between us in late 2016 and early 2017, we could alleviate the misunderstandings and get along fine from this point forward. It’s precisely because we were not having any conversations in person and all our communication was over email, text, and a very limited amount of voice communication via phone that we got to a point of such bad tension and misunderstanding. I do not hold myself blameless in this. There were a lot of things I could have done better, and there were a lot of things you could have done better. But your assumptions about my intentions and attitudes are way off base.

I do not feel like I can have this conversation well in writing, for one thing because I am not clear that you are willing to have a conversation about this in good faith. Part of me suspects that you will refuse to respond to this at all and simply use anything that I say about that time as written evidence to hold against me in the future.

I will, however, explain just one thing about the time before the California Open in December of 2016. Anything after that, we will have to talk about in person. You and I last spoke on the phone in early November of 2016, shortly after Trump was elected. At that point, I do not think you had yet signed up for the California Open, or at least if you did, I did not know about it yet. That phone call ended awkwardly, and I understand that you were probably not that eager to talk to me again after that, but you had not at this point ceased all communication with me.

Shortly after that, when I saw your name show up on the list of entrants for the California Open, I easily intuited that you were going there because you wanted to hook up with Evans, and that you were likely to get into a relationship with him after that. You had given me more than enough hints over the previous year to make this obvious to me. I was immediately concerned, not because I was jealous or wanted to stop you, but because I *specifically* wanted to avoid getting into exactly the kind of situation that we are in now.

Although you had never been willing to label what you and I had a “relationship,” let’s face it, we were in a de facto relationship for the better part of two years. And we had never been good at ending it cleanly and had several times gotten back together after several months apart. Even though we hadn’t been “dating” in a while, you and I had still hooked up in June of 2016 at the Atlanta tournament, and you had still sent me a birthday gift in the mail in October of 2016, with a sweet note that was an attempt to stay somewhat emotionally connected to me. There were still a lot of unresolved threads and emotions between us.

During the rest of November 2016, after I found out you were going to go to the California Open, but before you left for the tournament, I tried to reach out to you for another phone call, because I wanted to break up with you *cleanly*. I wanted to tell you, “It is far more important to me than anything that happens between us that Scrabble is my sanctuary, and I *refuse* to get caught up in a love triangle within the Scrabble world. Once you date anyone else in the Scrabble world, it is over permanently between us. We can still be friends, but we will never be lovers again.”

According to my personal morals, it would have been a shitty thing to have that conversation with you over email. After the better part of two years together, I was intent on being a nice enough person to have the break-up conversation via voice communication. However, you never gave me the opportunity to have that conversation.

I am not your enemy, and I am not Evans’s enemy. The enemy for both of you is the incorrect perception of who I am and what I think, that you both have built up over the last two years. If either or both of you is ever willing to fix this, all it will take is actually having a conversation with me. If you prefer not to fix this and to continue to carry a grudge for years into the future, that’s your problem, not mine.

There is no danger of me making things awkward at your Scrabble tournament or any other one that the two of you are at. The only people who are making things awkward are the two of you, by your refusal to communicate with me and continuing to hold a mistaken impression of me.

Sincerely,
Dave

P.S. Nothing in your email was surprising to me, except the sentence about disparaging you. I have no idea what this refers to. I have spoken about things between you and me to only a very few people in Scrabble, who are close personal friends, and whom I would trust to be discreet about it. If you have a problem with something I’ve said to a particular person, you’re going to have to tell me what it is that you think I said and to whom in order to get me to address it.

screenshot in appendix
SENT TO CHRIS AND JEREMY, NOT JENNIFER.

When I look back at what I wrote, I question whether I should have sent it. I still think I said exactly what I needed to say, but my faith in my own judgment had been so rocked and the social cost to me had been so high for what other people had perceived that I had done wrong over email, that I felt it was necessary to vet my words with friends first. I sent that proposed email to two people who were mutual friends of Jennifer, Evans, and me. The recipients were Chris Lipe and Jeremy Cahnmann.

Jeremy was the only other person in Scrabble to whom I had told the entire backstory aside from Walker Willingham. He had accompanied me on my cross-country drive to move to Seattle, and I spilled the story on one of the last days of the trip. Chris, of course, had vague ideas of my problems with Jennifer and Evans, but I have still never told him the full story. He has not been as receptive as I would like when I’ve tried to talk about it. I saw both of these guys as being more socially savvy and well-liked than I was, and I knew they both had a lot of communication with Jennifer and Evans and would have some idea of what their emotional condition was.

Both Jeremy and Chris thought that sending that letter would make things worse. Based on their feedback, I completely scrapped it and rewrote it two more times until I produced a letter that they both approved of. This is what I actually sent.

from: Dave Koenig
to: Jennifer Lee
cc: Evans Clinchy
date: Sep 17, 2018, 5:49 PM
subject: Re: Hood River tournament

Jennifer,

Thank you for taking the time to write this out and give me this explanation. To put your mind at ease in one way immediately: I have no desire to escalate this to NASPA, and I respect your decision.

Let me get right to the heart of the matter.

I stepped over the line when I wrote the following two sentences: “So if you do not meet with me before New Orleans, I will say what I need to say to you directly to your face across the Scrabble board in the tournament room with all the other players able to hear. I am almost certain that if that happens you will regret not having had this conversation in private.”

I was under a lot of emotional stress at the time that I sent that email, and as often happens in distressed situations, I was much more focused on my emotional needs than the impact of my words upon you. I know it may be hard to reconcile, but I did not intend to threaten you at the time that I wrote that. However, in retrospect it is obvious to me how those words come across as threatening. My mental state at the time seriously impaired my judgment. I am saying this not to defend my behavior at all, but only to explain that the words came out of a mental state that I was in a year and three quarters ago that is not at all where I am at now. I was wrong, and I am truly sorry.

Sincerely,
Dave

screenshot in appendix

Literally everyone I have shown this letter to, including family, other friends, and a therapist, thinks that it was pitch-perfect. I kept it brief. I didn’t challenge their point of view. I apologized for the little bit that I could. I didn’t put any expectation of a response on them. I just threw them some good will.

I hate it. I feel it is fundamentally dishonest. I still believe and will continue to believe for the rest of my life that I did nothing wrong. I fully understand how the second sentence that I quoted could be interpreted as a veiled threat, but it was not. The sense I intended was not “I’m going to make you sorry,” but instead that of a prediction. I was Cassandra in this story, seeing in advance exactly the bad things that were going to happen, but unable to get others to listen to me and thereby avoid this miserable fate.

I understand how in writing my words could be misinterpreted. I understand how Jennifer was also in a fragile emotional place at the time. But clarification was impossible because she forced all of the communication to happen over email and refused to talk to me.

Jeremy thought I needed to “fall on my sword,” to apologize and take the blame even if I didn’t believe it. That’s the wrong metaphor. What I did was sacrifice myself to other people’s demons.

He and Chris might have been right that my initial attempt at the email would have been ineffective and not changed anything with Jennifer and Evans. However, the email I did send was no better. They have never responded, and I have had no interactions or communication with them since I sent it. Furthermore, they have continued to escalate the situation within our Scrabble community in unhealthy ways, as I have learned from other people. If I had sent the first email, at least I would have had the mental peace of saying what I needed to say.

More than half a year later, in May of 2019, I was having dinner and drinks with the Raus in Edinburgh. We had competed in a tournament the previous weekend, and we had spent many days socializing together along with other Scrabble players, who had all left town by this point. I spent a long time telling them the entire backstory, which was now a great deal longer than when I had told it to Walker and Jeremy.

Two and a half years after all of this started, I finally had the experience of telling the story to other Scrabble players and finding the recipients of it completely on my side. It wasn’t just a matter of me being calmed and practiced enough to deliver the story effectively, though that surely helped. It was also because Terry and Stefan had been bothered by the behavior of Jennifer and Evans over the last few years. They were not on the “in group” list of invitees for the events that Jennifer and Evans had been running in Oregon. They pointed out how NASPA tournaments were not supposed to be private parties and by rule were supposed to be open to all comers.

That’s when I realized that Jennifer’s and Evans’s way of running these tournaments was hurting a much wider circle of people than I’d thought. I had already known for a long time that the steps Jennifer and Evans were taking to avoid me had been hurting the entire CSW Scrabble community in the Seattle area. The other players wanted to play with me and them and just have everyone get along, both at casual get-togethers and at tournaments. However, I hadn’t perceived that there were other interested CSW players from further away who wanted to come to these events but had never had the opportunity, because of the cliquish way they had been organized.

After I talked about how Jennifer and Evans kept me out of the Hood River tournament, Stefan spoke up. He had been on the Advisory Board of NASPA with Jennifer. His judgement in retrospect—now that he knew my story—was that Jennifer had used the idea of keeping Sam Kantimathi out of their tournaments as a smokescreen to get the rules changed to keep me out of tournaments. His conclusion was based on what he had heard directly from her on Advisory Board phone calls.

I mentioned above that I had been suspicious about the change in NASPA rules when I saw it in an email newsletter. I did not hint at this in any way to Stefan. He brought this up of his own accord, and the conclusion he came to about Jennifer’s motivation was entirely his own. I didn’t say anything about this issue until after he told me his conclusion.

Shortly before the end of 2019, Evans announced in public Facebook posts that he would not play in or direct NASPA events anymore, and that he and Jennifer were starting a new association called the Collins Coalition, or CoCo for short. The expressed reasons for doing this were problems working internally with NASPA leadership, including their refusal to ban Sam Kantimathi for life. The plan was to keep running their two annual Oregon tournaments under this new banner, and they recruited a number of other Scrabble players around the country to run tournaments as part of their new association.

I started writing this story before Evans and Jennifer started CoCo. It was not what motivated me to speak up about their behavior. Whether they run tournaments under the NASPA or CoCo flag doesn’t have much immediate impact on my life in Scrabble. Either way, they are the only ones running CSW tournaments with any kind of decent turnout in the Pacific Northwest. As long as they continue blacklisting me, I am in a bad situation of not having local opportunities to play. Even before they started CoCo, they were depressing the CSW turnout at the few NASPA tournaments in this area that they did not run by hardly going to any of them since I moved to the area. They had already made virtually the entire CSW scene in the Pacific Northwest a private clique to which I am not invited, even before they decided to put a new label on it.

I do not doubt that Jennifer and Evans have other motivations for starting CoCo beyond just blacklisting me, but I also think that anyone would be a fool not to recognize that I am a nonzero part of their motivation. They do not want to have to answer to anyone else. They do not want to have to worry about me protesting to NASPA about anything they do in the future to keep me out of tournaments.

Using Sam Kantimathi as the sole pretext for starting CoCo was unconvincing. NASPA had been allowing them and other directors to keep Sam out of their events for a few years already. Furthermore, it was odd timing, as shortly before they publicly announced CoCo the California Open in San Francisco had been held with Sam not being allowed to attend. This is the largest tournament in the area where Sam lives, and it is one where he had been allowed to play and sell his wares for the two previous years, after he had returned from suspension and the stories of his abuse and harassment of women had become public.

Evans and I have both been involved with Scrabble politics for a long time, and part of what is so frustrating about this situation is that we are in alignment about almost everything, except for his hatred of me and desire to exclude me. We both are very dissatisfied with the job that NASPA leadership has done for many of the same reasons. We both want Sam Kantimathi to be banned from the game for life. We both want to grow CSW Scrabble on this continent and eventually get the entire continent using the same word list as the rest of the world.

Despite all of my misgivings about NASPA, I have held firm during my entire time in tournament Scrabble that starting a renegade association is a bad idea. A different renegade association named WGPO was started years earlier and still exists, dividing our tournaments and tournament population. The creation of CoCo divides us further. There is no value in a Scrabble association that does not have a relationship with Hasbro and/or Mattel, the corporate owners of the game. There is negative value in having multiple associations in the same country.

The end goal that I have always sought is unity. That means getting rid of the WGPO/NASPA split and getting rid of the CSW/TWL split. We need all tournaments in North America to run under one association with one rating system. We need all tournaments in North America to use the same word list as the rest of the world, so that we can attract the greatest number of overseas players and have bigger events. This creates the conditions for the most growth of competitive Scrabble both here and around the world.

Furthermore, it is laughable that Jennifer and Evans have specifically tried to promote their new association as a welcoming and inclusive one. From the very beginning of them running tournaments together, they have been intentionally exclusive. They have gotten their friends to sign up before they made public postings for literally every single one of their events.

Even if an association like CoCo was a good idea, which it certainly is not, Jennifer and Evans are a terrible choice of people to run it. They have maintained a massive grudge over three years and used their misunderstanding to vilify me.

Although I think that supporting CoCo is a bad idea and hope that other Scrabble players will come to the same judgment, it’s not worth my energy fighting against it. Instead, I believe the appropriate response is mockery. So I’m not going to call it CoCo anymore. Its new name is Cliquish and Dickish.

I stayed for a week in January 2020 at the home of César del Solar and Mina Le. During that stay, I talked to them for the first time about the issues I had been having with Jennifer and Evans. Like Stefan and Terry, they were completely supportive. Shortly after we talked, Mina spoke up on a Facebook post about how hypocritical it was for Cliquish and Dickish to call themselves an inclusive organization when they were banning one of the top CSW Scrabble players in their region from their events. Mina told me that Evans responded in a nasty way, shutting down the conversation and claiming that she did not know what the person had done.

A couple months later, Mina sent me a message:

 we had a sitdown with Jenn and Evans for over an hour this past week to talk things out.  i asked whether you’d be welcome to play a coco tournament where they’re not present, and they responded you’d be welcome to play a coco tournament where they ARE present as long as they’re not organizing or directing.  FYI

screenshot in appendix

I didn’t ask for Mina to represent me in any of these ways, and I have never even tried to enter any of Jennifer’s and Evans’s tournaments, with the lone exception of the 2019 Hood River tournament that I signed up for specifically to open up a line of communication. Yet, Jennifer and Evans are preemptively setting rules to keep me out of tournaments, when they have no valid justification for doing so.

Their behavior has been outrageously offensive and abusive toward me, not the other way around.

I have done everything I can not to make this a conflict. From my point of view, there is no feud between me and them. It only exists in their minds. I haven’t fought to get into their tournaments, even though they have been fighting to keep me out.

There is a specific reason I did not want to protest to NASPA to allow me into their tournaments. In my Facebook post about Sam Kantimathi, I exhorted tournament directors to bar Sam from their tournaments even if it was contrary to the rulings of NASPA. I believe that directors have the right to keep individuals out of their tournaments, and I did not want to take any steps that would undermine that right. However, directors must wield that power sparingly and responsibly, which Evans and Jennifer have not done in my case. I believe that the proper way to address what they have done is not through an appeal to NASPA but in the court of public opinion.

Even if I had appealed and won my way into their tournament, I know exactly what it would have gotten me: all of us sitting in a room terribly awkwardly, with them hating my guts even more than before, and the rest of the Scrabble world believing that I have been harassing Jennifer and making their life miserable.

I have been angry and sad for over three years. Not because they hate me or are mistreating me, but because they are getting away with it. Because I have paid a social cost with the rest of the Scrabble community due to their mistakes. Because I have had so few opportunities to play Scrabble locally. Because many others have been complicit in their exclusion of me. Because so many of those complicit had been friends of mine for well over a decade. Because when I have spoken up, I have too often not been believed and supported. Because I do not trust the rest of my community to stand up to Evans’s and Jennifer’s appalling behavior and do something to improve this situation. Because I still fear that people will think I am the bad guy even after reading this, or that they just won’t care enough to help me.

To me a friend is someone who would have taken the initiative to ask me about what happened and, after learning the full story, would have taken every possible opportunity to get in Jennifer’s and Evans’s face about it. To make them uncomfortable. To make sure that they are the ones paying the social cost of their mistakes, instead of me.

That’s exactly what I would do for one of my friends, if you had been in my place.

Epilogue

Many times when I have started to tell the story of what has happened, people have asked me to give a quick summary, and I have struggled to do so. Now that I have written all of it out, I think I can.

Jennifer and Evans got the impression that I was harassing her based on two emails that I sent to her on December 19, 2016, and January 5, 2017, and two text messages that I sent her in between, on December 20 and December 25. They, especially Evans, behaved disrespectfully to me at the 2017 New Orleans tournament in response to their perception of these communications, and at every time we have crossed paths in the three years since that time. They attempted to blacklist me from the tournament Scrabble scene in the Pacific Northwest, cut off all communication, and avoided even being in the same place as me, preventing any hope of improving this situation. Furthermore, they painted an image in the minds of many other people in the Scrabble community that I was a harasser, leading to bad treatment of me. I have been very angry in that time, primarily not because of the attitudes of Jennifer and Evans, but because of their influence on the rest of my community and the way it has eroded my relationships and opportunities to play Scrabble.

I have explained how my actions between December 19, 2016 and January 5, 2017 were not in the wrong, but were aimed at making a peaceful closure of things between me and Jennifer, even though they were badly misunderstood. Furthermore, I have done nothing to exacerbate the situation in the more than three years since January 2017. Meanwhile, Jennifer and Evans have spent more than the last three years mistreating me and reshaping their Scrabble world so that I am not in it.

Their actions have affected far more than just me. They have intentionally cut out at least one other Scrabble player, Joey Krafchick, and their methods of doing tournament registration have excluded others as well, whether or not it was intentional. They have made the Pacific Northwest CSW Scrabble scene more divisive and less pleasant, and they have denied other Seattle area CSW players the opportunity to play games against me and them at the same gatherings. Jennifer got herself elected to the Advisory Board of NASPA and attempted to change the rules to give them more leverage to keep me out of tournaments, something which would also potentially in the future help them to keep other people out of their tournaments capriciously. Then they left NASPA and created a renegade association, further dividing our Scrabble community.

Their behavior is classic passive-aggressiveness. I’m not denying that they have additional motives besides me. However, they have been behaving for a long time with bad intentions toward me, and they have been doing everything they can to obscure the fact that they are doing these things because of a personal grudge.

I have reflected on why they felt it necessary to start Cliquish and Dickish and to promote it as an inclusive organization. Admittedly, this is completely my conjecture about their motivations. I think that they have seen that their method of registering their friends secretly in advance has had ill effects of excluding more than just the people they intentionally wanted to exclude and that they had to change their modus operandi if they wanted to keep growing. However, they knew that doing so would make it harder to keep me out, and they quite possibly understood that their grounds for trying to keep me out of their tournaments were weak. Even though I never appealed to NASPA about their decision to exclude me, there is a good chance that if it ever came to that, they would lose. They wanted to create their own organization so that they could make whatever capricious decisions they wanted about who was not allowed to play in their tournaments without having to justify it to anyone else, and in so doing be able to make their tournaments more widely available to everyone except for the few they wanted to exclude.

I just want to play Scrabble. If Evans and Jennifer want to hate me forever, I am not going to lose sleep about it. However, when they get in the way of me being able to play and they influence other Scrabble players to be complicit in excluding me, they cross the line. I do not need anything from them, if other players are willing to stand up for me and force them to end this madness. At the same time, I have understood for a long time that the simplest way to fix this situation is to heal my relationship with them.

They don’t need to be my friends, and I don’t need to be their friend. However, it is best for Scrabble, especially CSW Scrabble in North America, if we can all get along well and coexist at the same tournaments. I believe this is easily within reach if Evans and Jennifer can change their attitudes. There is nothing about my attitude that needs to change. I am already happy to compete in events alongside them and play in the same casual get-togethers.

I need to make a big decision in the near future about where I am going to live and work. In the past, I chose my location based primarily on what was good for my career. What I discovered when I came to Seattle was that ostracism from the local Scrabble community had a serious impact on my quality of life. The trauma that I have experienced has often been physical and has had a deleterious effect on my health. I was so reactive and stressed that it left me ill-equipped to handle the challenges of my professional life. Eventually I decided to take some time off of work. While there were also other positive reasons for my hiatus, I made a promise to myself that I would not go back to work until I told this story.

I hope that others, especially other west coast CSW Scrabble players, will consider deeply how complicit they have been in excluding me and whether this is the kind of community they want to build. I still like the Pacific Northwest and would like the opportunity to be connected to its CSW Scrabble community, but Jennifer and Evans have created such a stranglehold on it that I may at some point have to give up and decide that I can only be happy elsewhere. While they might be satisfied with that outcome, is that what the rest of you want? Do you want to drive off one of the ten best players in the country because of a three-year-old grudge held by two people who have twisted a misunderstanding into a character assassination?

Appendix

Figure 7

Chris Grubb first notifying me that Jennifer and Evans were trying to keep me out of Seattle Scrabble get-togethers. This exchange happened nearly two months before I moved to Seattle, while I was on a business trip there and doing an apartment search.

Figure 8

Email to Evans entering the 2019 Hood River tournament. This is the only time I have attempted to enter a tournament run by Jennifer and Evans.

Figure 9

Jennifer’s response to my entry to the Hood River tournament. Evans did not respond.

Figure 10

Email to Jeremy Cahnmann and Chris Lipe including full text of the first draft of my response to Jennifer about the Hood River tournament.

Figure 11

Email that I actually sent Jennifer and Evans in response to her email about Hood River. This has been the last communication of any kind between us.

Figure 12

Message from Mina about Jennifer and Evans. This was in no way solicited by me. I had not requested entry to any CoCo event, nor had I asked Mina to speak to them about it.

Part I: The Crucible

Prologue

Throughout the last three years, a lot of rumors have been circulating about my behavior toward Jennifer Clinchy (formerly Jennifer Lee) and Evans Clinchy. They have painted a false picture in the minds of many Scrabble players that I harassed Jennifer, causing my ostracism from much of our mutual Scrabble community. Jennifer and Evans misunderstood and reacted poorly to my attempts to make closure between me and Jennifer, so that we ended up in exactly the kind of awkward social situation I had sought to avoid.

I’ve been over this entire story so many times. I have reflected on my behavior, Jennifer’s, and Evans’s, and on what might have/could have/should have happened. I have been over this in my own private thoughts and in conversations with others, both with people who are completely disconnected third parties and people who know all of the principals in the story well.

I recognize that you, the reader, are probably not on my side yet and might think that I am the bad guy here. I have been known to be verbally aggressive, on social media and in person. I assure you that is not what happened in this situation, and I ask you to suspend judgement until you hear me out.

In writing the body of this story, I have been completely honest and straightforward not only about what happened but also about what my emotions, attitudes, and opinions were at the time, which were often different than they are today. I have included screenshots of relevant emails, text messages, and even personal writings to myself to demonstrate that there is no revisionist history here. In the epilogues of both parts, I have reflected on the events from a present-day perspective. The epilogue of Part II also includes a short summary of the basic outline of the story.

The Crucible

There are times when you must speak, not because you are going to change the other person, but because if you don’t speak, they have changed you.

Jennifer and I had a de facto relationship for the better part of two years in 2015 and 2016, even though she never wanted to call it a committed relationship. We broke up and got together again several times in that period. Not only that, but we had a history of being unable to quit each other, continuing to stay in communication and sometimes hook up, even when one or both of us had started seeing other people.

In November 2016, I became aware that Jennifer was about to get into a romantic entanglement with Evans Clinchy, a Scrabble player whom I have known well for twelve years, far longer than either of us has known Jennifer. Even though Jennifer and I had not been dating regularly since late May or early June, things had never clearly ended between us. We hooked up once that summer at a Scrabble tournament. She clearly tried to maintain some sort of emotional relationship with me through the summer and early fall, as our text message history attests. (When I started to write this story three years later, I went through our text history to corroborate and in some cases to correct my memory of the chronology of events.) As recently as early October, she sent me a birthday gift in the mail.

Beginning that month, much of the rest of my life had come crashing down.

The pivotal event that started the downward turn was my mother having a serious accident over the summer. It was a freak thing. She had been taking care of my niece and nephew for a few days and had developed a cold, so she was a bit worn out but nothing more serious than that, until she fell badly in a public restroom in a restaurant. She didn’t realize how hurt she was and tried to get up but fell again. She ended up breaking both of her arms and lacerating her face. She needed stitches. One arm went in a cast, and she had to wear a wrist brace on the other one. It was a lot to deal with, but at first it seemed that it was all stuff that would naturally heal quickly enough.

However, when she wasn’t healing, the doctors discovered that they had failed to diagnose spinal damage. My mother needed surgery to widen the spinal column between her vertebrae so that the spine could heal properly. The doctors planned ahead of time that she would be in ICU for three days after the surgery so they could keep her stabilized and monitor her recovery. It was communicated to us ahead of time that there were a lot of risks and that even with success her fine motor skills might never be the same as they had been before.

I had a health drama of my own around the same time, not nearly life threatening like my mother’s, but still another thing to deal with. I was dating on Tinder extensively, trying to keep my mind off of Jennifer and her unwillingness to commit, and ended up in a stressful situation involving a disease scare and me running to the pharmacy in the middle of the night to get Plan B for a sexual partner with whom I had gone too far.

The stress of this led to serious physical illness. I ended up with the flu and the worst outbreak of canker sores in my life, which prevented me from eating solid food for a week and would not go away on their own. My doctor prescribed me a regimen of prednisone, which left me feeling like I was bouncing off the walls mentally. Even after the flu and canker sores went away later in November, I was drained of sexual energy and unable to have an erection for the next six months.

Concurrently with my illness, my mother had her surgery and a recovery that was far worse than the doctors thought it was going to be. The three days they had planned to have her in ICU turned into eight days. She screamed and howled in pain. She begged for more pain medication than they would give her, and she said suicidal things. She wanted them to put her out of her misery. My stepdad was with her the whole time, thankfully, but when my sisters and I talked to him, he was understandably really strung out by the whole situation and close to going crazy himself. After my mom got back from the hospital, for a long time she was barely mobile and still in a lot of pain. She needed a walker to get around, and she couldn’t lay down on the bed. They had to prop pillows up at 45 degrees for her to lay on, and she needed help getting up or going anywhere. She could never seem to have enough pain medication.

My mother’s surgery was on Halloween day. Because of my own illness, I wasn’t able to get up to New Jersey for a month. My three sisters each in turn traveled to my mother’s house in the following weeks to help out. Finally I made it there on Thanksgiving Day, after all of my sisters had returned to their own homes.

So, the entirety of November 2016 my family dealt with my mom’s surgery and harrowing recovery, and I battled my flu and mouth sore outbreak accompanied by sexual dysfunction. Do you remember what else happened in that month? Donald Trump was elected President. The outcome of the election was devastating to me, as it was for many, many other people, but that it happened in the midst of these illnesses just made everything all the more overwhelming.

Jennifer worked for the White House, in an office related to science and technology which sadly the Trump administration has now completely dismantled. As bad as Trump’s election was for the rest of us, I’m sure it was way worse for Jennifer and her colleagues. Based on the limited communication I had had with her in the time leading up to the election, she was already dealing with depression. She told me that herself. Then the shock from this result aggravated her situation.

In this time of crisis, I desperately wanted friends, not lovers, and I desperately wanted to play Scrabble. I had built my schedule from June to October so much around dating constantly that without it in my life I had nothing else to do. I didn’t have any friends who I was in the habit of socializing with anymore. Scrabble had completely emptied out of my life too.

I had no tournaments and no casual games left in the Washington DC area. Bob Linn was on a hiatus from the game because of health issues. Before that, Sammy Fomum had had a baby and not much time for Scrabble anymore. A few years earlier John Van Pelt and Marsh Richards had moved out of town, and so had Lucas Freeman after them. Toh Weibin had been in DC for school for a while and played with us regularly, but by this time he had already gone back to Singapore. Sam Rosin was still living in the area but was very busy and had no time for Scrabble. I was able to set up a meeting with Vince Castellano to play one time, but that was it. And that’s when it hit me, even though a few years earlier I had started up an active DC Collins Scrabble Club, it had lost a lot of people, and things had shifted to Jennifer being the main organizer of our Scrabble get-togethers. She had pulled a few other people who were mainly her friends (Zachary Dang, Mary Goulet, and Brent Weil) into playing with us sometimes, though none of them were frequent players. I think I reached out to each of them once to try to get some games in, but I got no takers.

The person I had played by far the most Scrabble with in the area was Jennifer. I couldn’t have sex if I wanted to, and romance was not on my mind. Yes, there was still a lot of emotional residue of our past relationship that made things awkward between us, but I also really needed Scrabble in my life. It was one of the only things that could keep me sane. I realized that Jennifer hadn’t just been my lover in a terribly unhealthy and foolish on-again-off-again relationship of the better part of two years. She had also been a good Scrabble partner and friend.

It was difficult to get Jennifer back into my life. The tenseness of our life events, the political moment, and our relationship history made for a weird mix. We were still in touch irregularly, but she was sporadic, slow, and reluctant in responding to my texts sometimes.

I reached out to Jennifer in early November attempting to arrange a get-together to play Scrabble, though this was when I was battling my own illness and not available yet. At first she wasn’t just amenable but even enthusiastic about the idea. But that changed abruptly after Election Day. She was shell-shocked and dragged her feet on making a time to play Scrabble happen, though she never explicitly took it off the table.

We had one phone call, less than a week after Election Day, that went very awkwardly. (It was between November 11th and November 14th, according to our text message history.) It did not help that I was hopped up on prednisone at the time. When I couldn’t stop talking heatedly about how we needed to respond politically to Trump’s election, she had to end the call abruptly. It was the last time we ever spoke on the phone.

In that same month, Jennifer signed up for the California Open Scrabble tournament, scheduled in early December. I do not remember whether she had signed up for it yet or whether I was aware of it at the time we spoke on the phone. However, I am 100% sure of this: The moment I saw her name on the signup list for the tournament, I intuitively knew that she was going to the tournament to hook up with Evans and that they were going to get into a relationship. To explain why, I need to rewind and elaborate some of my relationship history with Jennifer.

Jennifer and I made a trip to Australia together in November 2015. We both competed in the World Scrabble Championship in Perth at the beginning of the month and then spent a couple more weeks traveling around the rest of the country. We socialized with many of my other Scrabble friends who were at the tournament, and they knew that the two of us were staying together. On our first day there we made a day trip to Rottnest Island with John O’Laughlin, Cecilia Le, Jesse Matthews, Jesse Day, and Evans Clinchy.

Maybe later that evening or the next day, while Jennifer and I were home at our AirBnb in downtown Perth, we were engaged in a conversation while her laptop was open and on the screen was Evans Clinchy’s Facebook profile page. I observed immediately what page the laptop was on, but this was a complete nonissue to me. However, at some point I saw from her body language that she noticed what page the laptop was open to. I could easily read off of her that she was uncomfortable with this and that she was gradually positioning herself—while continuing to engage me in the conversation—in such a way that she could get close to the laptop and shut it so that this page was not shown anymore. She thought she was being subtle and unnoticed. I could read her clear as day, but I didn’t care. I showed no sign that I noticed what she was doing, while making a mental note that she must be interested in this guy and was embarrassed about the possibility of exposing that to me.

Fast forward to a group dinner at a nice restaurant. We were all seated at a round table. John and Cecilia were on my right. Jennifer was on my left. Evans was immediately left of her. Dave Wiegand had joined our group and was on the other side of the table. Jennifer had positioned her chair so she was sitting much more closely to Evans than to me. She was turned so that she was almost facing him. She relentlessly hit on him for the entire dinner. She kept trying to chat him up in a playful way and get him engaged. Evans did absolutely nothing wrong. I could tell he found the situation uncomfortable, but he handled it about as well as possible, respectfully engaging her when she talked to him but trying not to let things get too carried away. It was obvious not just to me but to everyone else at the table what Jennifer was doing. At one point my eyes met with Cecilia’s, and we both did an eye roll almost simultaneously.

I never spoke up or got upset or showed discomfort or displeasure with the situation at all during the dinner, except for the silent gesture to Cecilia that no one else noticed. After dinner I spoke to Jennifer while the two of us walked by ourselves. I believe my message got across to her about how hurtful her behavior was to me, maybe not right away, but the next day for sure. She recommitted to me for the rest of the trip, no longer acting flirtatiously toward my other male friends and more openly showing me affection and holding my hand in the company of others.

My relationship with Jennifer had often been rocky before the Australia trip, and it continued to be so after the trip. However, the next relevant part happened at a time when on the surface things were going well between us. In the spring of 2016, Jennifer was beginning to put out feelers for a new job. She intended to stay at her White House job through the inauguration to aid in the transition to the new President and then switch jobs shortly thereafter. She wanted to get back to Seattle, where her family was and where her brother had a couple of young children.

She planned a trip to Seattle in June, during which she set up a few job interviews. She told me that she was going to go down to Portland on the trip, as there was also a job opportunity that she wanted to interview for there. I don’t doubt that she set up a job interview in the Portland area, but I could tell she was trying to see Evans again. Not necessarily only Evans. She had also become friends with Conrad Bassett-Bouchard and might like to socialize with him and other Portland Scrabblers. But I was pretty sure that seeing Evans was a large part of her motivation for going to Portland.

From a lot of our earlier conversations in which she had not been willing to make our relationship “official,” I had learned to take the zero expectations approach and just be as supportive as possible. I recommended a particular guesthouse in Portland where I had stayed in 2015. I never argued with her or called out that she was trying to be around Evans, but it was the elephant in the room. Maybe in some ways because of how well I handled the situation, or maybe because the opportunities to spend time with him just didn’t materialize, the evening that she stayed in Portland she spent mostly on the phone with me in her room at the guesthouse. I didn’t force that conversation to happen, and his name never came up. But the subtext was there. I felt like she spent so much time talking to me that night to demonstrate that she wasn’t with him.

I spent the better part of a year and a half traveling to many Scrabble tournaments with Jennifer and seeing how she made her plans and where she traveled to. Getting back to November 2016, it was highly unusual for her to be going to the California Open. She never went all the way to the West Coast for a tournament. When I saw Evans’s name on the entrants list, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together to realize she was going to see him.

Also, we’d been having a lot of awkward conversations over text and email and the one by phone, and I could just tell how different things were compared to where they had been the last few months. I sensed that she was less interested in me now and that there was someone else.

What I desperately wanted to tell her before she left for California was this: “Jennifer, you and I have played the breakup-makeup game for a long time. Even when we have gotten involved with other people, we have not gotten over each other and kept going back to each other. When you get involved with another Scrabble player, that cannot keep happening. I refuse to get into a love triangle within Scrabble. Once you go down that path, it is over between us forever. We can still be friends. I’ll be happy to socialize with you at Scrabble tournaments and play friendly games with you. But we will never be lovers again. It is far more important to me that Scrabble is my sanctuary and that we don’t have this drama at our tournaments.”

Essentially, I wanted to have the breakup talk. I wanted to make sure that we put closure on our emotional relationship, so it did not mess up the Scrabble scene for us. We had tailed off of seeing each other regularly in June of 2016, around the same time that she made that trip to Seattle and Portland, but we had never had a real breakup talk. We still hooked up at a later Scrabble tournament when we weren’t rooming together, and she sent me that birthday gift in October. Back in 2015, we had crossed paths at some local DC tournaments at times when one or both of us was seeing someone else and the other one knew it, and it had been emotionally difficult. We had on multiple occasions gotten back together after being split up for a month or more. There were plenty of reasons to believe that closure was important even though we had not been together recently.

Maybe I should have just sent her something like what I wrote two paragraphs above by email or text message before the California Open. That might have been the best opportunity to avert the disaster of the next three years and counting. But in my personal ethics, you don’t have a breakup conversation over text or email. That’s the kind of thing that a solid human being should do face-to-face, or at very least over the phone where you can hear the other person talk and gauge emotions. 

Jennifer didn’t completely cut me off at this stage, but a phone call never happened. I tried to make it happen through calling her and/or texting, but I was also concerned that if I tried too many times to talk to her or insisted too strongly that we needed to talk, it would be counterproductive. I assiduously avoided ever saying specifically that I wanted to talk to her about the tournament or that it was important that we talked before the tournament, and I didn’t say anything about Evans. A few days before she went to the California Open, we had an awkward email exchange in which I divulged my sexual dysfunction.

Very shortly after the California Open, both Jennifer’s and Evans’s names showed up on the entrants list for the January 2017 Scrabble tournament in New Orleans on the exact same day. Some important context about this tournament: My name was on the entrants list for almost an entire year ahead of time. I had booked my flight and hotel well in advance. When Jennifer and I were still dating in early 2016, I had specifically invited her to come with me. She had told me in no uncertain terms that there was a 0% chance she could attend, because it was the same week as the Presidential Inauguration. She said she would need to be in DC at that time in order to aid in the transition. I say this not to criticize her for going back on this, but only because this was strong circumstantial evidence that I had intuited correctly what had happened between Jennifer and Evans in California. It was not public knowledge as far as I know to anyone else that they were involved.

Now, while my mother was in unbearable pain and saying suicidal things, while I was dealing with a several week illness, while I had completely lost all sex drive and stopped dating, leading to my social isolation, while my opportunities to play Scrabble locally had all but evaporated; attending the very event that I had been looking forward to for so long was going to take me headfirst into a situation where I was likely to see Jennifer with another Scrabble player, someone whom I had known for over a decade, far longer than she had been in the scene. Further, this was a small enough tournament that I was almost sure to sit directly across the table from each of them and face off in a game.

When I was going through the previous worst time in my life, getting divorced in 2007 and 2008, Scrabble was my sanctuary. I poured my heart and soul into the game, studied more fervently than I ever had before, and had my best ever results to that point. I was so grateful to Scrabble for helping me escape the pain of the rest of life. Now, the thing I most wanted to run away to in a crisis would take me headlong into a crisis.

I admit that not all of my thoughts and motivations were as positive as simply wanting mental peace. In some ways I had been the one who had walked away more than she had when we had last dated earlier in the year. But I took an honest, introspective look at my own emotions, and I did perceive that this situation hurt my pride. Even though the relationship with her had been such a shit-show, having this pretty girl with me at Scrabble tournaments was a status symbol. It wasn’t really true that she had left me for him, but it crossed my mind that other people would perceive it that way, and that I would look less desirable. I knew that these were petty emotions and the wrong things for me to focus on. I mention them to fully disclose and not oversimplify the emotional complexity of the situation.

But what was much more my primary emotional driver was this: Jennifer and I had both dated other people a number of times while we were on-and-off together, but it had always been people outside of Scrabble whom the other person had not met. We still continued to see each other at tournaments and DC Scrabble get-togethers even when we weren’t dating. It would be much harder to deal face-to-face with her being in a relationship with someone whom I knew and had a long history with.

Within a few days after I saw both of their names show up on the tournament entry list, I felt compelled to contact Jennifer about the tournament via text. I probably tried to call her too, but she didn’t respond to either the texts or the phone call. So on December 19th, I sent this email.

from: Dave Koenig
to : Jennifer Lee
date: Dec 19, 2016, 4:28 PM
subject: meeting before New Orleans

Dear Jenn,

I suspect that you have gotten romantically involved with Evans, perhaps some other Scrabble player, but most likely him. My evidence for this is entirely circumstantial, and I could be wrong. However, with you not returning my calls and emails and the fact that you signed up for the New Orleans tournament on the same day as he confirmed his attendance, I feel compelled to write to you now.

You and I are not in a committed relationship, and you are free to date or have sex with whoever you want, of course. However, when you get into something with another Scrabble player I know and we are all going to be in the same place at the same time, you make it my business. That doesn’t mean it has to be a problem with me. But I need to know the truth from you. If you are indeed involved with him or some other Scrabble player, I will find out eventually, and I would much rather find out from you than some other way.

I think it is a good idea for you and me to have a conversation, preferably in person but alternatively over the phone, if meeting in person is not feasible with your travel schedule. I would like this conversation to happen before the New Orleans tournament. I think this is in your best interest and mine.

I am not going to be angry or yell or argue or try to convince you to do things otherwise. I just need to know the truth of where you are at. You do not have to worry about hurting my feelings. It hurts my feelings much more to be left in the dark and worrying about what might be happening than it does to hear the truth. But it will be a much more uncomfortable situation for both of us if the next time we talk is across the board at the New Orleans tournament, without having a conversation about this first. I would prefer to avoid that situation and not accidentally air any of our issues in front of other Scrabble players.

So please, talk to me before the New Orleans tournament, for the both of us. And I am sorry to have to ask you one more favor, but please take down your Facebook profile picture of you sitting on my balcony and smiling at me off camera. The thought of you continuing to use that picture while you are involved with someone else I know is very hurtful to me.

Sincerely,
Dave

Screenshot in appendix
“EMAILS” WAS A MISSTATEMENT IN THE FIRST PARAGRAPH. SHE HAD NOT RESPONDED TO TWO TEXT messages on december 15th and 16th. Prior to this, there had been no unanswered emails, only texts.

That was it. All I wanted was two things, just to know whether she was really together with him, so I could be mentally prepared for seeing them at the tournament, and to have her take down one Facebook profile picture.

I am well aware that the picture was entirely my own hang-up, but it really bothered me. Jennifer had for a long time had as her profile picture a selfie she had taken on a summery day while sitting out on the balcony of my apartment in Falls Church, Virginia. She had been sitting by herself posing for the camera when I walked onto the balcony a moment before she snapped the photo. This distracted her just enough that she turned her head toward me with a beaming smile, so as a result she is looking off to the side, but no one other than she and I knew the story of the photo. She captioned it “selfie interrupted.”

During a great deal of our relationship when we were playing the makeup-breakup game or just not seeing each other for a while, I had looked back at that photo fondly on Facebook. It had been a sign to me that she was still connected to me, that she still cared about me. That is my mental story, not hers. She might have just thought it was a nice picture and wanted to keep it up. She also didn’t always use Facebook all that much, so she might not have bothered to change it. But regardless of what the photo meant to her, it hurt me a lot for it to still be up when she was seeing Evans. Furthermore, I didn’t think it would be a big deal. Why should she want to have it up when she was seeing him? Surely if he knew the story of the photo, he wouldn’t have liked that it was up either.

The photo was the main thing I cared about. Yes, it would have been nice to get confirmation from her that she was indeed seeing him, but I already thought it was unlikely that I had intuited wrongly. However, I really, really wanted her to take down that picture, and if she had been able to give me that one act of kindness, it would have been a lot easier for me to handle the situation.

From that point forward, she completely ghosted me. She never responded to a text message, phone call, or email again. When most of the next day had passed and she hadn’t responded nor taken the photo down and I began to suspect that she would do nothing, my mental shape degraded quickly. I had already been very agitated and upset about things in the preceding days and weeks, but now I was angry too. How could she not take this photo down? It’s just about the smallest thing I could have asked for, and there’s no reason she should want to keep it up for herself, I thought. No matter how rocky things had been between us before, I strongly believe that the ways in which we had hurt each other had always been unintentional. However, it was hard to read anything but spite in her refusal to take the picture down.

Furthermore, I quickly realized that in asking for her to remove the picture and waiting to see if she had done it yet, I had made the crucial error of putting myself in an emotional position where I needed something from her. This was agonizing. In the mornings, in the afternoons when I got back from work, and late in the evenings, I found myself checking whether that photo was still up (it always was) and then falling apart in tears and anger again.

On the first day after I sent the email, I did consider the possibility that she might have already blocked my email address before this. That’s why I felt it was necessary to send her a text on December 20th saying “Did you read the email I sent you yet, and are you going to take down the Facebook profile picture as I asked? Please confirm.” I see that that could come across as petulant or harassing to her or to other people reading this, but I was just desperate. Desperately sad and angry and needing some certainty as to whether she was intentionally snubbing my request to take the photo down.

The holidays were almost upon us and in the next few days Jennifer and Evans both showed up on the attendance list of the Albany New Years tournament. At this point it became obvious that they were seeing each other. I was still connected to both of them on Facebook, and during that tournament they started posting photos of them together. As soon as I saw these, I immediately had a massive feeling of relief. I was so glad to know that their relationship wasn’t something I had just dreamed up in my head and that I had a better idea of what to expect at the New Orleans tournament a couple of weeks after that. I didn’t unfriend either of them on Facebook, but I unfollowed them both. I didn’t need to see anything else about their relationship. I was just glad that the ambiguity was gone and that my intuition had been right all along.

However, the picture still bothered me. Even without her in my Facebook feed, I checked her profile page every day to see whether the photo had come down, and I seethed because it had not.

I sent one more text to Jennifer on Christmas Day, the last one I ever sent her. It said, “Merry Christmas, Jenn. I have been very upset and angry and sometimes filled with hatred because you have not taken down the Facebook profile picture of you on my balcony as I asked you to. But I am trying to be more positive and move away from that negativity. I am asking you one more time politely to please take down that photo, and I hope you have a very happy holiday season and it provides you everything you desire and need.”

There was a specific reason that I felt it necessary to send that text. In thinking about the email of December 19th and the text of December 20th, it had suddenly occurred to me that there was still the possibility that she might not have a necessary part of the communication. If she had blocked the email and never seen it, then the December 20th text might not have had enough context for her to know exactly what photo I was talking about and why its removal was important to me, so I felt a need to reiterate that in the text message to ensure that she had the information.

The grieving I did over the picture was the right way forward. I needed to fully accept the loss of my relationship with Jennifer, to fully experience that grief before I got to New Orleans, so that I could focus on playing good Scrabble.

In the first days of 2017, with support from a few friends of mine, I began to turn the corner on my anger and sadness. One friend in particular helped me reshape my attitude toward Jennifer into “fuck you, I don’t need you in my life,” which is exactly where it needed to be. Once I didn’t need to keep looking back at the picture, I blocked her on Facebook.

I still wanted to tell her off for what she had done. I wanted to have that one last breakup conversation to create closure, but this time I didn’t need to hear anything from her. I just wanted to communicate how unkind she had been in ghosting me and not taking the picture down, and I believed that I could say things in just the right way that would make her cry in front of me. This time I wanted to talk in person, because I wanted to see those tears on her face, and I knew that if we talked on the phone, she would just hang up on me. I also knew that if I asked her again for a meeting, she was highly likely to just continue ghosting me. So I decided I had to give her an incentive to make the meeting happen. I sent her one more email on January 5th, and I copied it to both of her email accounts, just in case she had blocked the one I used previously.

from: Dave Koenig
to: Jennifer Lee, Jennifer Lee
date: Jan 5, 2017, 12:26 PM
subject: Jennifer

Hi Jenn,

A lot has changed since I last wrote to you, but I still want to speak to you. I no longer want or need to hear anything about you and Evans, and I have no desire to get back together with you. The Facebook picture no longer matters either, as I have blocked you on Facebook and can’t see it anyway.

However, there are a few things that I would like to talk about to gain some closure between me and you. If you want to have a dialogue about these things, I welcome it, but if you have nothing to say to me, then I will just say what I need to say quickly to you and be done with it. But it does have to happen in person; I can’t do this over the phone.

I think it would be best to have this conversation in private, but I no longer have any compunctions about holding back in front of other Scrabble players we know. So if you do not meet with me before New Orleans, I will say what I need to say to you directly to your face across the Scrabble board in the tournament room with all the other players able to hear. I am almost certain that if that happens you will regret not having had this conversation in private.

I am available any day or evening for the rest of this week or the weekend or next week except Monday, January 9th.

Sincerely,
Dave

screenshot in appendix

That was the last communication I sent her before the tournament. She never responded, and no pre-New Orleans meeting ever happened. However, this was exactly the right thing to turn my brain around and get myself mentally ready. The dread of going to the tournament was gone. Now I was thinking, “I get to go there and say whatever I need to say to her face,” and I was looking forward to it.

It wasn’t even that important to me whether I said anything at all. I meant it quite literally when I wrote in the email “say what I need to say.” It might end up being something, and it might end up being nothing. But I was no longer in the position of needing anything from her. I could take care of my own needs.

One more relevant and amusing thing happened a week later, still before the tournament. I was hanging out at a bar in DC with a buddy from out of town. This guy was an infrequent Scrabble competitor, and he had met Jennifer once, at the 2014 Nationals in Buffalo where she and I had first started getting flirtatious. He had become her Facebook friend then, though they barely had any awareness of each other. When I told him the story about how I had blocked her over the picture, he pulled out his phone to look up her profile. He wasn’t trying to rub anything in my face, but just to remind himself who I was talking about. When we checked the profile, we saw that she had replaced the balcony picture with a new one on January 6th, literally the next day after I had emailed her telling her that I had blocked her and couldn’t see it anymore.

I just had to laugh at that. It seemed clear that she’d been keeping the photo up specifically because it hurt me.

About a day or two before I flew to the New Orleans tournament, I chatted briefly over text with one of my Scrabble buddies, Jason Broersma. I dropped a hint that something was amiss, and he very quickly started digging and understood that it was about Jennifer, Evans, and me. Then he told me to meet him and his partner Sue Tremblay at a bar in New Orleans on Friday night, the day before the tournament started. I was looking forward to this. I really wanted to reconnect with my Scrabble friends and talk about what I was going through, and I considered Jason a good friend.

However, our meeting did not go as well as I had hoped. What happened was that either he or Sue or maybe both of them talked to Jennifer first. They sort of listened to my story for a while, but with a distorted lens. It was clear that Jason thought I was still hung up on Jennifer and couldn’t let her and the situation go. He did not understand that I was trying to break up with her all along and at one point when I said that I never wanted her back, he did a double-take, because it clearly didn’t line up with the mental model he had of the situation. He tried to listen for a while, but frankly he wasn’t the best listener, and he was eager to try to stop me from doing something bad, when what I really needed was a friend who would just listen and understand what I was dealing with. I got very angry with him after a while, and the conversation was mostly unproductive. He was the only person I got angry with in the entire trip to New Orleans. The interaction with him was far more stressful and upsetting to me than anything that would happen with Jennifer or Evans.

At one point in the conversation I started to tell Jason about something I wrote in my phone’s notes, and he actually grabbed my phone and read it before I was even able to explain it fully. Prior to this writing, he is the only person other than me who has read it.

You were the only woman I’ve ever loved besides my ex-wife. And you were selfish and dishonest with me over and over again, and I loved you anyway. You made lies of omission, not commission. And sometimes I’d get mad or we’d break up for a few months, but we kept coming back together and I kept forgiving you. And most of the time, I asked for nothing from you. You said over and over that you had “nothing to give,” and I accepted it and I accepted you, even though you were being selfish. The one time we agreed to be in a committed relationship for a month, you couldn’t keep that commitment for 24 hours, and I just laughed it off and accepted it and accepted you. But the one time I really needed something from you so I could get some closure and peace, all I needed was for you to take down one Facebook picture. And even that was too much for you to give.

Thank you for not taking that picture down. I looked at it every day until it completely sank in that you give zero fucks about my well-being. And that I’ve never seen you do anything for someone else unless it was what you yourself wanted to do. You’re not my friend anymore, and you are permanently out of my life. Now, I care about your well-being as little as you care about mine, but I hope for the sake of the men you get involved with in the future that you learn to be less selfish than you were with me and with that other guy John and with your ex-husband.

screenshot in appendix

I wrote that short speech so that if I was under distress while facing Jennifer at the tournament and too flustered to come up with something to say, I would have it to fall back on. I had made no decision about whether I was actually going to say it to her in the tournament room. I figured I would know in the moment what I needed to say, which—as I mentioned before—might be something or might be nothing. I had even edited it down so that I could say it in less than two minutes and tried to write it in such a way that if I did have to deliver it in front of other people, only Jennifer would understand most of it.

At the end of our conversation, Jason told me that Jennifer was afraid of me making a scene at the tournament. Since she had completely ghosted me, I had no idea what her emotional response was to any of the communication I had sent her. The reason I wanted to talk by voice or in person in the first place was so that I could gauge her reactions.

It didn’t make sense to me for her to fear that I would make a scene. If she was concerned about that, the logical thing to do would have been to have a conversation with me before the tournament, which is exactly what I was trying to do all along. It was only because she was hard-set on not meeting with me ahead of time and instead insisted on creating this situation of us seeing each other for the first time in months across the board at the tournament that we were in this mess.

Prior to that moment, I had only conceived of the attitude in her refusal to talk to me or take the picture down as twisting the knife in my back, not as acting out of fear. Understanding to anticipate her being fearful when we met the next day was helpful.

On Saturday morning the tournament started, and fate would have it that Jennifer and I were paired to sit at the same table for the first three games in a row, playing each other in the second round and playing other opponents at adjacent boards in the other two rounds. I sat down to play my first game and did nothing out of the ordinary, but Jennifer was so afraid to even sit at the same table as me that she ended up convincing her new boyfriend Evans to switch tables with her. He sat right next to me, but we had no interaction. I didn’t worry about it and just played my first game, winning easily.

In round two, I sat at the board where I was going to play Jennifer, and Jason Broersma sat at the adjacent board. In retrospect, given the way the pairings were, he also must have pulled a switcheroo to put himself there, a fact I only realized now as I’m writing this three years later. He even at one point put his hand calmly on my back, surely from his point of view to stop me from shooting my mouth off, but it was completely unnecessary. He didn’t understand that there was zero chance of me doing anything untoward in this situation.

Jennifer delayed sitting down across from me until moments before the round was supposed to start. When she finally did, she started bagging up the tiles as quickly as possible to try to start the game without a conversation. She was visibly shaking and scared. I sat in silence as she bagged the tiles up. When she finished and we were about to start, I said, “Oh, I just remembered I wanted to say one thing to you. Let’s play Scrabble.”

Jennifer was a mess during the game. She got the better of the tiles, but she made a suboptimal bingo in the first few turns, missing a triple word score when she could have hit it with one of its anagrams. Later she lost a turn playing a phony bingo, allowing me to block her real one. I triumphed in an ugly low scoring game only because she fell apart.

She would end up again switching tables in the third round to avoid sitting near me, and that was the end of our interactions in New Orleans. We never ended up sitting near each other again in the rest of the tournament, both kept to ourselves in the tournament room, and never crossed paths outside of the tournament room.

Jason thought I did the classy thing by minimizing the conversation with Jennifer before our game. That’s not how I saw it. I saw that Jennifer had gotten herself so worked up and afraid because of how much she feared me saying something. What in her imagination might have been about to happen was so much worse than anything that I could or would have said in the moment—including the speech I had written. If I had said something, it would have pulled the bandaid off. Maybe there would have been some tears shed in the moment, but the tension would be over.

There’s a common saying from chess that went through my head while I sat there facing Jennifer: “Sometimes the threat is stronger than the execution.” I saw that saying nothing and maintaining the tension would be the way for her to experience the most agony. And as a bonus, Jason—and possibly anybody else nearby who had some idea of what was going on—would think that I was being above it all. The entire time that I was trying to make a conversation happen I was doing the good thing. Then I stopped trying and instead let Jennifer torture herself, and that was the evil thing. But Jason sees it exactly backwards, as probably do several other friends in Scrabble.

I delighted in watching Jennifer suffer in front of me. She punished herself for her behavior in a better way than I ever could have. I saw it as karmic justice for how much pain she had caused me in the last couple months. But at the same time, I did not do it to her. She did it to herself. She did it by coming to a tournament where she already knew I was going to be, by insisting on not communicating with me prior to the tournament, by avoiding a conversation that would have made things better, by building up so much tension in her own head that just being there with me was such a terrible experience, even though I wasn’t doing anything.

I didn’t end up playing against Evans until the following afternoon. Up to this point, he was a nonissue to me. My concerns about getting closure with Jennifer and making sure that I could have peace of mind at the tournament weren’t about him at all. I had no jealousy of him and wished him no ill will.

Furthermore, I even liked the guy. In fact, when I had been at home in the last month crying my eyes out with hatred and sadness toward Jennifer, I had worked to keep a positive image of him in my mind. I had had a few situations earlier in life when a girl I previously had been involved with got into a relationship with a guy I knew. I always found that a lot easier to handle when it was a guy I liked, because then I thought, “Of course she likes him, he’s a good guy.” It was when the girl got involved with a guy who was an asshole that it was a lot harder to take.

I don’t think he liked me though.

I’ve known Evans since we played in a Philadelphia tournament together in 2008, and in the early going we were chummy friends. Several years later, mostly—I believe—because of the way I comported myself in a number of online discussions with other Scrabble players in TWL/CSW arguments, Evans’s opinion of me had seemed to cool off, but nothing about my opinion of him had changed. Evans’s negative attitude about me had come out in little ways earlier, but there was one particular interaction on Facebook that I think is worth mentioning.

This was probably in 2013 or 2014, well before anything was going on between him and Jennifer, possibly before I knew her. I got into some explosive arguments on Facebook about the TWL/CSW divide. Evans wasn’t even participating in these discussions, but he observed them.

Evans commented in a different place on Facebook, I believe on a post by our mutual friend Marsh Richards, about what an asshole I was. This wasn’t an oblique mention, as in the link above. This time he specifically named and attacked me. I commented on Marsh’s post saying that I was going to respond to him but wasn’t going to do it there so as not to pollute her post.

I then made a post directly on his Facebook timeline telling him multiple times to go fuck himself and calling out his hypocrisy. From my point of view he often engaged in very similar argumentation to what I did online, but for some reason he was eager to criticize me for behavior that was much like his own. He neither responded to nor deleted my post or the ensuing comments. Several other friends spoke up and argued with me further. In the course of that argument, I also revealed that years earlier he had made some anonymous insulting posts on another Scrabbler’s Livejournal, and a lot of other people had assumed the posts were from me. He had never spoken up to admit the anonymous posts were his, and he allowed other people to go on thinking that they were from me.

The post on his Facebook timeline was an ugly moment, but the argument soon ended. Tempers calmed, and we all went on with the rest of our lives. I personally held no grudge toward Evans about it. My feeling was that I would not let an attack stand without a response, but once I said my piece I was done. In retrospect, I definitely could have used nicer language and not come down as hard on the guy as I did, but I still feel I was justified in attacking him and standing up for myself, because he initiated the encounter by attempting to talk behind my back, naming me, and insulting me.

For the next several years—right up until the New Orleans 2017 tournament—Evans and I continued to hang out in the same social group at Scrabble tournaments and go to group dinners and other events together. He never brought up anything about the Facebook incident in real life. If he had mentioned it and told me anything about how much it bothered him, I would have unhesitatingly apologized for my language and how hard I was on him. I would have communicated clearly that it was water under the bridge to me, but that if he still held a grudge I didn’t blame him. Then I likely would have asked him what I could do to make things better. But actually confronting interpersonal issues and improving the situation is not Evans’s style, as you will see much more of later in the story.

From that point forward, Evans pretty much never initiated conversation with me directly. I was often at the center of conversation with our mutual friends, and it seemed to me that whenever I was talking, Evans was very interested in what I had to say. I often felt like he was the person in the room who was most paying attention to every word from me, but he minimized any direct interaction with me. I didn’t like him any less than before, and whatever antipathy there was was completely unidirectional from him toward me. I didn’t worry or care about it, but I noticed it. I figured if he ever needed to resolve something with me, he needed to speak up and deal with me directly. Otherwise, it was his own issue.

When Evans and I sat down to play in New Orleans, after we put the tiles away I reached out my arm to shake his hand, as I am always in the habit of doing before games. However, he startled me when he refused to shake my hand. He didn’t say anything and just angrily shook his head. I had been oblivious until that moment to the fact that his body language was showing a massive amount of anger toward me. When we played, he spoke the minimum he had to, just to announce the scores. Other than that, he never said an intelligible word. He didn’t want to look me in the eye, and the only other communication I got was guttural noises.

Evans has been pretty much the same every other time I’ve seen him in the three years since. While I think that Jennifer’s fear of me has calmed down over time, his hatred of me has seemingly only hardened.

Evans got ahead early in that game and might have won anyway, but I made a crucial error of playing a phony bingo. Evans immediately shouted “Challenge!” before stopping the clock. While this is the correct thing to do in the game situation, he said it much more loudly than was necessary. We walked over to the challenge computer and got the verdict that the word was unacceptable. He immediately jumped up as if he were doing a touchdown dance, pumping his fist and bursting “YESSSSSS!” in the middle of the room. He was childishly gloating over besting me on a challenge.

I said nothing and went on to lose by about 100 points, but on the inside I was amused. He won the battle, but he lost the war. I could tell that I was in his head. I owned him now. Winning or losing against him was the same as it was against any other opponent, but he hated me so much that he was likely to go on tilt if things started going poorly against me in future games.

Something else started happening at this New Orleans tournament too, and my first observation of it was during my arrival at the airport, a few hours before I met up with Jason on Friday night, though I did not initially understand that it was related. When I got to the luggage carousel, I saw Rob Robinsky waiting for his bag. I walked up to him and tried to give him a friendly greeting, but he immediately flinched and reacted to me very coldly. I didn’t understand this at all, as he and I had always gotten along well before that, but I just assumed he might have been having a bad moment and didn’t worry about it.

It wasn’t until I started interacting with other Scrabble players at the tournament that I gleaned what was happening. Jennifer must have told a bunch of our mutual friends that I was harassing her, and they were turning on me, without ever telling me why or asking me what happened. I realized this when I spoke to other friends in the evening about dinner plans and started getting evasive answers. I immediately sensed what was happening. My friends were having a group dinner including Jennifer and Evans, and I wasn’t invited because they didn’t want me there. I didn’t fight it or try to explain anything at the time. On a couple of occasions out at bars, I tried to start telling a few Scrabblers a little bit of what I was going through, but I got shut down quickly. It was clear my friends were in no mood to talk about it, and I could see this wasn’t going to be the time and place to get the sympathy I needed.

The social awkwardness I faced in New Orleans with other Scrabble players who were mutual friends of Jennifer, Evans, and me was only the beginning of a change in the tenor of my relationships with many people that has persisted for over three years, from January 2017 to the present day. Many of my relationships with people I had known for the better part of two decades—far longer than any of us knew Jennifer—became strained. Some dropped out of my life almost entirely. Most often, I still interacted with people in a quasi-normal way, but I could just tell that they felt differently about me, though they never had the nerve and directness to discuss what was on their mind with me.

Epilogue

The night before the New Orleans tournament, when I tried to explain to Jason Broersma that the reason I wanted to talk to Jennifer was for closure, he said that she didn’t owe me that. I agree with that. I think it would have been wise of her to have that conversation with me ahead of time, as it would have relieved the tension for her and not made the scene in the tournament room so uncomfortable for her. However, there is no sense in which she had any moral obligation to do so.

But there’s another moral issue colliding with that one. Just as she has the right not to say anything, I have the right to say something. No one gets to treat me like shit for two years in a relationship, and then get involved with a guy I’ve known far longer than I’ve known her, and then ghost me, and then put herself in a position where she is literally sitting down at a table in front of me—nobody gets to do all those things without getting a piece of my mind. That is a matter of me setting my own boundaries. You don’t get to sit in front of me without seeing the emotional effect of your actions upon me. I have the right to speak my mind to whoever crosses my path. What I did in that email was assert that right.

I believe that I did nothing morally wrong, both in my communications to Jennifer before the New Orleans tournament and in my behavior at the tournament. My communication was ineffective in bringing out the desired result of a dissolution of the tension between us prior to meeting at the tournament, and the emotional state I was in at the time definitely affected my ability to communicate as calmly and effectively as possible. But my ineffectiveness was not a moral failing. That is an important distinction in my mind.

I have serious doubts that we would have reached a better resolution even if I had been able to communicate better. I think that Jennifer’s insistence on not talking to me ahead of time and in bringing herself to a tournament where we would have to sit across the board in a disastrously tense situation was probably inevitable, regardless of how much better I might have written those emails.

At the same time, I recognize that it was an extremely tough time emotionally for both of us and that we were both more reactive because of it. Although Evans undoubtedly behaved in the most inappropriate way in the tournament room, I understood that his reactions came from a place of pain in seeing Jennifer in distress, and I had no way of knowing how she had depicted the situation to him. I would hope that a person in Evans’s position would talk to me about what had happened in a reasonable way before jumping off the rails with anger, but it is easy for me to forgive his behavior in the heat of the moment.

I do not hold any grudge whatsoever for anything that Jennifer or Evans did up to this point in the story. That includes both the way Jennifer behaved before the tournament and the way Evans behaved at the tournament. In my head, I’ve already completely forgiven her for ghosting me and not taking the picture down, and him for his hateful behavior toward me during our game.

However, what I have not forgiven is all of their behavior toward me and affecting me in the more than three years of time since the 2017 New Orleans tournament, which I will address in the next part. I have been very angry and distressed over the last three years because of the social fallout I have experienced and the opportunities that I have been denied to play Scrabble, all things that were precipitated by the events I have described so far. These emotions have been apparent to many around me and have undoubtedly exacerbated my problems. My emotional response was not to what you have read already, but to what is coming.

You may judge my actions in this part of the story differently than I do. However, it will not even be the slightest bit controversial in the rest of this story, covering all of the time from after the New Orleans tournament to the present day, that my behavior toward Jennifer and Evans has been beyond reproach. I believe the historical record will vindicate that I have gone above and beyond by being understanding and reasonable even while they have behaved in hateful, cliquish, and destructive ways. Furthermore, they have avoided any communication with me, preventing this situation from getting fixed. As you will see, the path that Jennifer and Evans took from here would end up having negative effects not only on me but also more widely on our Scrabble community.

My relationship with Jennifer and Evans is not, however, the main reason that I am writing this. It is instead my relationship with the rest of the community, both how people have responded directly to me and how they have not stepped up in the face of odious behavior by Evans and Jennifer.

For a long time I haven’t wanted to bring up anything about the situation with Evans and Jennifer to other Scrabble players, for many reasons:

  1. I truly wasn’t holding an emotional grudge, even though they were, but I thought that if I spoke up to complain about what they were doing and how they were treating me, it would come across like I was also holding a grudge.
  1. Jennifer painted an image in other people’s heads that I was an angry harasser. I knew that if I spoke up and showed any anger at all about her or Evans that it would play into this perception and undermine people believing me.
  1. Most of the time when I crossed paths with other Scrabble players was at a tournament, and I didn’t want to dig up an emotional subject at a time when I needed to focus and play Scrabble well.
  1. I believe that good friends would have asked me what happened and listened to my side of the story instead of treating me differently while never talking to me about what happened. I don’t think the onus should be on me to win back people who have treated me in such a way, nor do I necessarily want to win them back.

I spent more than a year after the New Orleans 2017 tournament saying nothing about these events to almost everyone in Scrabble. I only started talking to other people in the community about these events much later because of other actions that Jennifer and Evans took. There were several longtime close friends with whom I never broached a conversation until 2019 or 2020. There are many others with whom I still have not discussed these matters.

After I first wrote out the entire story, I realized that it bifurcated at this point into two mostly separate plotlines: the continued interactions I have had with Jennifer and Evans, which have been very limited, and the interactions I have had with the rest of my Scrabble community, which have been plentiful. I believe that some of the context of my stories with other Scrabble players is necessary to fully appreciate what has happened, but I cannot bring in that full story without making what remains to be told significantly longer. I have edited and condensed the next part to include only a few anecdotes between me and other Scrabble players, either because they are important to the story or particularly emblematic of the problems I have dealt with.

On the other hand, I have judged that it is important not to omit any of the major details of the interactions I have had with Jennifer and Evans, because I do not want to give any possible appearance of a lopsided or biased depiction of events. The story will include every communication I have had with Jennifer or Evans and every time that we have been in the same place. In the appendices, I will also include screenshots of all of our communications, starting with the full history of text messages between me and Jennifer in November of 2016.

Appendix

Figure 1

My complete text message history with Jennifer in November and December 2016. My text has the blue background. There has been no text message correspondence between us since then. We used the emoji of a person crossing hands in an X to mean “hug.”

Almost all of this communication was well before the California Open on December 9th-11th, 2016. The two texts on December 15th and 16th were an attempt to contact her after she signed up for the New Orleans tournament. The December 20th and 25th texts were the only communication in between the two emails of December 19th and January 5th.

Figure 2

Email exchange with Jennifer shortly before she went to the California Open, divulging my sexual dysfunction.

Figure 3

Email to Jennifer on December 19th, 2016, shortly after she signed up for the New Orleans 2017 tournament, asking for a meeting before New Orleans and for her to take down a Facebook profile picture. She never responded. It was not yet public to other Scrabble players that she was together with Evans. Neither of them had yet signed up for the Albany New Years tournament.

Figure 4

Email to Jennifer on January 5th, 2017, my last communication before the New Orleans tournament.

Figure 5

Speech to Jennifer that I wrote on the notes app of my phone. I never delivered this speech to her, but Jason Broersma read it the night before the New Orleans tournament.

Figure 6

Comment made by Evans in a conversation on LiveJournal in 2012. His phrase “CSW bitching” and the final paragraph refer to me.

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